Can't Stop The Rain
by PoeticallyPathetic19
Summary: Hot and cold, back and forth, Sam's not sure what Dean wants from him anymore. Or if Dean even wants him. Wincest. Oneshot.


-Note- Song is by Taylor Swift, because she's got some killer songs (like this one). Oneshot. Random. Much love, as always, goes out to my girl Miss Cinnamon. She continues to be my miracle worker! Leave reviews ya'll, they keep the muse happy! -Note-

_You have a way of coming easily to me._

"Hey, baby," Dean greeted, arms wrapping around Sam's waist.

He jumped at the sudden contact. He hadn't even heard Dean come in. Hadn't expected him to. It'd been nearly two days since he'd last seen or heard from his brother. Why would he suddenly expect Dean to come waltzing in with kisses and warmth when he'd stormed out the last time?

_And when you take, you take the very best of me._

Sam pushed Dean's arms from around him and turned around. "Dean," he sighed. "Don't."

He was hurt and irritated more than anything, but it didn't mean that he wasn't angry too. Dean was pushing his limits and dangerously close to starting up another round of fighting Sam really didn't want any part of.

"Don't what?" Dean asked, locking his arms back around Sam and dropping gentle kisses along his collar bone- his best attempt at an apology for what he'd done.

For a second Sam almost caved, the scrape of teeth against his flesh almost melting him right back into Dean's embrace. He'd missed Dean's kisses and the warm, hard body that wrapped around him in the middle of the night, despite his protest to cuddling. But he knew falling into Dean was only a temporary fix and in the end it was only going to hurt more. If not them both, Sam for sure.

"Dean, come on," he tried again, only to find Dean's arms and lips right back on him. He wanted to keep his anger to a minimum, having cooled down over the past several hours alone, but Dean was seriously pushing him. He wasn't stupid either, he knew what was coming and he was doing his best to at least put it off for now.

"You come on, Sam," Dean murmured, nuzzling at Sam's throat.

It figured, the time Dean was his most affectionate was when he was in trouble or wanted to get out of doing something. Like talking. Then it was like he couldn't be more loving or attentive to Sam.

"No," he snapped, pushing away Dean's apologetic arms away more forcefully. "This isn't okay, Dean. You can't keep doing this!"

This was how it always went. They fought and Dean ran. When he finally came back, instead of trying to talk to Sam or work things out he called Sam baby and tried to kiss everything better. That may have worked when they were kids and it was scraped knees, but now they were men and it was broken hearts they were dealing with.

Things changed. When was his brother going to realize that?

_Oh, what a shame.  
What a rainy ending given to a perfect day._

"Look, you know I didn't mean it," Dean pleaded. "I didn't mean to get so worked up before."

Yeah, he never meant to get so worked up, did he? Sam was the only one that ever meant to get worked up. Dean just happened to fall into it with all the grace and charm of the Winchester men. Only a thousand times worse, and minus the charm.

"You never mean it, do you?"

Dean let out a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through short cropped hair. "No, I don't. Sam, I'm sorry. I was stupid, I didn't mean it."

"I'm getting pretty sick of hearing _sorry_, too" Sam answered honestly. "It's in nearly every other thing you say to me."

Dean hung his head, lifting pleading green eyes back to his a moment later. "I know that, Sammy."

Sam sighed his defeat, the fight going out of him at the use of Dean's pet name for him; Sammy and baby, always made him go weak. Add in those gorgeous green eyes of Dean's and he was a goner. There was only so much of a fight he could put up against someone like his brother. He felt sorry for every girl Dean had ever slept with, because now he knew what it was like to be fucked and walked away from by Dean. It was the coldest he'd ever been in his life and he never wanted to feel like that again.

"We've been doing this for months, Dean," Sam finally breathed. "We fight and we make up, and for a while everything's great. But this time you really…" He really what? Ripped Sam's heart out? Close, but too dramatic for Dean to hear. It'd only send him packing once again.

"Sammy," he prodded gently.

"I just don't know what I said this time, Dean." They'd been fine. Dean had finally made love to him and they'd been lying there, Dean kissing his neck the way he knew drove Sam wild and the next thing he knew they were fighting and Dean was gone. He hadn't heard from his older brother in almost two days and then suddenly he was back and all over Sam.

"It wasn't you," Dean protested. "It was me."

Sam snorted. "It's always you," he muttered bitterly. It was never, Sam. But it had to be something he said or did because it was only ever after Sam opened his big mouth that Dean got scared off. It wasn't like anyone else knew what they were doing either, to put more doubt in Dean's mind. It was just the two of them, and it couldn't always be Dean's fault.

"I'm sorry," Dean apologized weakly. "What do you want me to say, Sammy?"

Something inside Sam snapped then, the anger he'd felt replacing the pain and fear of losing Dean. Why did it always have to be about what Sam wanted him to say? Why couldn't Dean just be straight with him and say what he thought, what he really felt, instead of keeping him at arm's length and feeding Sam all the things he wanted to hear?

"I want you to say that this isn't some game!" he yelled. "I want you to tell me that you're not going to run away from every damn fight we have, instead of sticking it out and trying to fix things. _I'm sorry, baby_, isn't going to work forever!"

"I know," Dean tried to protest.

" I'm not some bimbo in a bar you picked up," Sam went on, not wanting to Dean to interrupt him before he got this all out, because if he did there was no telling when Sam would ever have the strength to say these things again. "I'm not some one night stand that you'll leave behind in the morning."

"I know that, too," Dean snapped.

"Do you really?" Sam asked. "Because this is our life you're messing with and it's not as easy to fix as some school girl's heart!"

" Don't you think I know that?" Dean yelled back. "I've been taking care of you our whole lives. I know exactly who you are! You're Sam, you're my younger _brother_!" He turned away, pressing a hand to his forehead. "This thing between us isn't easy for me to deal with either, you know. And if it breaks- let's be honest, because that's what you really want-we can probably never fix it if it does."

"They why do you keep walking away?" Sam asked softly, wrapping his hand around Dean's arm "If you want this to work then-"

"What do you want me to say?" Dean demanded, whirling back around. "What do you want me to say, Sam?" He jerked his arm away. "That I love you?"

Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair. How did they always get there? How did kisses and gentle touches turn into something so hateful with a few wrong words?

_Just walk away, no use defending words that you will never say._

Dean shook his head and snatched his jacket up from the bed. "I can't do this," he said. "I can't deal with this." He shot one last glance at Sam before storming out, not bothering with goodbyes or apologies. He'd be back later for those.

He always was.

Sam laughed bitterly and slammed the motel door shut behind his brother. Wasn't that classic, Dean? Walking away in the middle of a fight. Forget that Sam needed him, that all he needed were a few loving words and a sincere apology instead of a brush off.

Really, he should have been used to it by now. He saw it all the time. Was it really that surprising?

He knew Dean wasn't ready to say I love you, that wasn't what Sam wanted from him. But the more time they spent together, the more Dean seemed to think Sam expected it. What he wanted from Dean was honesty. If Dean loved Sam, then he wanted to hear it. If he didn't…well, Sam didn't exactly what to hear that, but it was better than lies or fights.

So much better than going days without seeing his brother's face or hearing his voice. Anything was better than that.

And now that I'm sittin' here thinkin' it through, I've never been anywhere cold as you.

Sam threw himself back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as he'd been doing since Dean left the first time. There wasn't really much else to do. He couldn't leave without Dean. He'd swore never to do it again after Stanford, and he was hell bent on keeping that promise even when half the time he wanted to walk out that door just to put a little of that fear back into Dean. 

He'd seemed so much more loving in the beginning, like he was afraid of losing Sam. Now it felt like he was the one that was scared of being left alone. Then again, a two day disappearance wasn't exactly comforting. Who knew how long Dean would be gone this time.

_You put up walls and paint them all a shade of gray._

If he was as upset as Sam thought, he was going to be stuck in this motel a hell of a lot longer than he'd ever wanted to be. Long enough that Dad might actually begin to wonder what was going on with his boys, and why Dean was gone on a 'hunt' alone. Again.

It was getting harder and harder to explain their behavior and Dean's disappearances. Even harder to explain the marks on Sam's neck when Dean came back. Pretty soon he was going to have start wearing turtlenecks or something, because the fighting sure as hell wouldn't be the thing that changed.

That would be asking far too much of Dean. He got defensive, walked out, and came back when he was ready, always knowing that Sam would be there waiting.

And I stood there lovin' you and wished them all away.

No matter how hard it was or how foolish it made him, he couldn't seem to leave. To stop loving Dean. Truthfully, he didn't want to. Despite all the things they'd been through, and how cold Dean could be, he was always warmer with Sam, always more open and honest. It was funny that their main problem was his unemotional and detached demeanor, when he was always more Dean with Sam, than he was anywhere, or with anyone else.

Dean was a completely different person with him, and sometimes, even when Dean was at his worst, Sam just smiled and thanked God he had Dean in his life. Everyone had their flaws, but Dean…he was a perfect imperfection. And there was no one else that could fill Sam's heart the way he did. They belonged together, despite everything, Sam couldn't see living his life without Dean and he never wanted to.

And you come away with a great little story of a mess of a dreamer with the nerve to adore you.

Tired, Sam rolled onto his side, staring at the closed curtains and contemplated just sleeping until Dean came back. Hours, days, whatever. It wasn't like he was doing anything here anyway. Dad would just be full of questions that Sam couldn't and didn't want to answer. He might as well suffer in the comfort of his own motel room and fend Dad off with texts of illness than suffer with Dad around to darken his mood.

The sound of the lock turning caught his attention, somehow sneaking into his sleep addled brain. He jerked upright, glancing suspiciously at the door to see if it had taken advantage of his weakness or was really granting his prayers.

He'd half expected Dean to be gone for another two days, maybe longer. Or to sneak back in, in the middle of the night drunk off his ass and smelling like perfume. Anything else he could to do hurt Sam.

Nothing hurt like that. Having Dean come back to him smelling like someone else, knowing that he'd only come back out of loyalty to a younger brother, not a lover. Sometimes that made it harder than anything else.

The lying, the secrets, and hiding things from Dad were hard, but he could get through that. Keeping things from your parents wasn't exactly anything new, he'd done it plenty of times as a kid. How else would he have gotten into Stanford?

But this was different. This was Dean, this was the one person he wanted to give his whole heart to and that made it hard to keep secret.

_Oh, what a shame.  
What a rainy ending given to a perfect day._

Dean shut the motel door behind him quietly. He kept his head down and leaned back against it, not bothering to take his jacket off. He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath like he wanted to say something and then snapped his mouth shut sharp enough for Sam to hear his teeth crack together.

"Hey," Sam said softly. It was clear that Dean wanted to be the one to start this but he just wasn't ready to. The _sorry, baby _part was over, and Dean was really trying to do things right.

He smiled when Dean looked up, sincere in his happiness at seeing his brother again. He didn't want to fight anymore. He wanted to go on with whatever it was they were doing and let things work themselves out, because he couldn't force Dean to love him anymore than Dean could force Sam to _stop_ loving him. Dean was either going to say the words, or he wasn't.

"Sam," Dean started hoarsely, finishing weakly with a "hey."

Sam laughed quietly. "Hey." He stood from the bed and made his way to Dean, resting his hands possessively on Dean's hips. It really was too cute when Dean got flustered like he was, searching for all the right words, when all he had to do was hold Sam close and apologize like he really meant it.

"Hey," he breathed, green eyes locked on Sam's mouth. He licked his lips and brought his eyes back up, guilt and sincerity clear in his gaze.

Sam lowered his mouth, "hey," he whispered against Dean's lips, closing the distance between them before Dean had a chance to drag things out. He knew Dean was sorry, he didn't have to say it for Sam to know. It was in the way he got quiet and awkward around Sam. Doing things like saying _hey_ a thousand times over until they found their way back to the other's mouths, or going back and forth between Sam and Sammy, like he wasn't sure if it was okay for him to call him Sammy anymore after the things he'd said before.

He sucked Dean's lower lip into his mouth, his heart skipping a beat at the soft whimper it drew from Dean. Like Dean, Sam knew all his brother's weak spots and every which way to make him moan, whimper, or call out his name. It was a toss up between the last two as to which Sam liked best. A whimpered Sammy was probably one of his biggest kinks with Dean. Followed closely by baby, when it wasn't used to get his way.

Dean's arms slipped around Sam, one hand cupping the back of his neck and forcing them closer together. He slid his leg between Dean's and let him set the pace. He'd accepted Dean's attempt at an apology and now Dean had to realize that before things could go any further, or he'd only pull away in guilt and try to stutter his way through another one like he had earlier. Only that time he'd wound up running away and hurting Sam a little more.

_So just walk away, no use defending words that you will never say.  
And now that I'm sittin' here thinkin' it through, I've never been anywhere cold as you._

He wasn't ready for that to happen again. Walking away was too much like an ending. All he wanted was a beginning.

_You never did give a damn thing, honey.  
But I cried, cried for you._

Dean suddenly pushed him away, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth. He shut his eyes tightly and curled his hand into a fist. "I'm sorry, Sammy," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"Dean?" Sam said hesitantly, reaching a hand out to him. What was going on with Dean lately? If he was a girl Sam would swear Dean was PMSing.

Dean knocked the hand away. "Don't."

_And I know you wouldn't have told nobody if I died, died for you.  
(Died for you)_

"What's wrong?" Sam pressed. He clenched his fists at his sides, resisting the urge to try and reach out to his brother again. Whatever was wrong with Dean, he seemed so close to the edge that Sam didn't want to risk it.

Dean stayed like that for what felt like forever, taking deep breaths and shaking his head from time to time like he was having an argument with himself. He lifted his head a few minutes later and muttered an apology.

Sam merely cocked his head to the side in worry and confusion and waited for Dean to go on.

"I just…" he broke off mid-sentence with a sharp laugh, and shook his head. "Forget it, man. Just forget it."

_Oh, what a shame.__  
What a rainy ending given to a perfect day. _

"Forget what?" Sam asked warily. Panic beginning to set in as Dean's grin widened, making Sam feel like he was missing something that was right in front of his face.

Things had seemed fine a few hours ago. Hell, a few minutes ago even. He hadn't been dreaming about Dean's tongue down his throat, had he?

Now Dean seemed more standoffish than usual, and Dad wasn't anywhere around to make him that way. It was just the two of them in their motel room, Dad and their stupid fight a distant memory for the time being. They had all night before they had to worry about him again and hopefully even longer before another fight. Anything that was going on now was all in Dean's head. Which wasn't all that surprising considering who they were and what they were doing.

Especially when one of them was Dean.

_Every smile you fake is so condescending.  
Counted all the scars you made. _

Sam frowned and took a step closer, brushing a hand over Dean's cheek. "You okay?" He'd accepted Dean's apology, his brother had to know that.

Dean's smile faltered, coming back full force as he took his own step back. Sam's heart sank, recognizing the smile on his brother's face now. It was the same smile Dean gave him right before he drop kicked Sam's heart.

"Dean, what's going on?" he demanded. His stomach twisted, but he kept his voice as steady as possible while he waited for it to all come crashing down on him again. Whatever Dean had to say now was only going to hurt, that much Sam knew. What he didn't know, was if he could change things.

_Now that I'm sittin here thinkin' it through, I've never been anywhere cold as you.__  
_

"It's over, Sam," Dean said quietly. "For good this time."


End file.
